Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Seventeenth in a
series.After almost 20
years in St. Paul – first on Jackson Street in Lowertown, then in the Hamm
Building near Rice Park – the esteemed and beloved Artists’ Quarter jazz club
will close January 1. As we near the end of a jazz era, we’re asking musicians (and
a few others) whose lives have been shaped by experiences at the AQ to share
their three favorite memories of the place, the people, and the music.

Bill Carrothers,
pianist

Bill Carrothers by John Whiting

When I was 15 years old, I played my first gig at the
Artists’ Quarter. My dad drove me to the club because I couldn’t drive yet. It
was a pretty seedy place in those days and I had never set foot in the club
before.

I remember walking in and seeing Eddie Berger setting up for the night.
I walked up to him and said, “Hi, I’m Bill Carrothers. I’m the sub for Mikkel
Romstad tonight.” Eddie said to me, “Bring your piano in and get set up.” I
said, “I didn’t bring a piano. I thought there was one here.” So my dad drove
all the way home to Excelsior and got my Wurlitzer and brought it back so I
could play the second set.

While he was gone, I sat at the bar and someone slid a
Mickey’s Big Mouth over to me. Of course I drank it. I felt like a king,
sitting in a jazz club drinking a beer. After that first gig, I felt like one
of the fold, a small thread in the tapestry of jazz. I thought to myself, “I’m
a jazz musician.” It was a great feeling. I never had any doubt after that
night what my direction in life would be. And it all started at 26th and
Nicollet in south Minneapolis in 1979.

I didn’t meet Kenny Horst until later. To be honest, we
didn't hit it off all that great for a while. I was young, headstrong, with the
sort of black-and-white attitudes about life that only the young possess. I was
also blunt, acerbic, and a pain in the ass. But, over the years, Kenny saw past
my faults and he and I have become very good friends. I don’t know exactly when
that happened … I suppose we both got older, more tolerant, less fanatically
committed to our own points of view. And we’ve played a lot of really fun gigs
together at the AQ over the years. Music has the power to change and to heal,
and it certainly has had a positive influence on our ever-growing friendship.

I want to take this opportunity to thank Kenny for the
Herculean effort he has made over the years in keeping jazz alive in the Twin
Cities. There is no one else that I know of who has made as direct and powerful
an impact on the quality of jazz and jazz musicians in the upper Midwest than
Kenny Horst. Thanks to Dawn as well for believing in her husband’s dream and
for helping him to pursue it. And thank you both for providing a venue for
musicians to try out their latest projects and hone their craft.

The AQ has been a permanent axis around which all of the
jazz musicians that live and/or grew up in Minnesota have revolved. It has
always felt like home to me, the place where I learned the craft of playing
jazz music, and I am very hopeful that somehow the Artists’ Quarter will
continue for another 40 years to be a home for musicians young and old.

With love and respect,

Bill Carrothers

Mass City, Michigan

Joey DeFrancesco, organist

Joey DeFrancesco by John Whiting

I played the AQ for the first time in 1998 [at the Jackson
Street location]. December. Wintertime. Jack MacDuff was still alive, and he
came by and we had a ball. That’s the first time I actually met Kenny and his
wife, Dawn.

The next time I played there was in 2002 [at the Hamm Bldg.].
Again, it was in December. They had Billy Holloman’s organ there – I think he
had a red organ. I was on the road and touring around and had my own organ with
me. I tried Billy’s and wasn’t too crazy about it, so we brought mine down the
stairs.

We played for three nights. It was great. We would stay
until three or four in the morning, talking with Kenny, having a good time.
We’d go to Mickey’s Diner after, go to bed about seven in the morning. I don’t
do that anymore.

Kenny is so generous. Such a sweetheart. I remember my
drummer, Byron Landham, was having trouble with a bass drum pedal, and Kenny
gave him one of his. We had a tour bus, and he would stock it for us. That’s
the kind of guy he was. We always enjoyed hearing him play, too. He had a very
unique style – his own style on the drums.

Whenever I came in, it was like a big party. I got to know
the Petersons – Billy and Bobby. I got close with all those guys. We always had
a lot of fun. Over the years, I’ve gone there and sat in many times. Everything
always went good. Everything was smooth. The audiences were really lovers of
the music, because that’s all they were going to get there. Music and a drink.
Maybe sandwiches, or you could order a pizza.

The last time I officially played there was in 2007. Winter
again. They were having a jazz festival outside, in a heated tent. I couldn’t
believe they were going to do that in St. Paul in February. They ended up
cancelling the outdoor part and moving it inside to the AQ.(1)

The AQ is a great environment. A real musicians’ music club.
I can’t say enough about that. It had a very soulful vibe to it. When you know
the owners, you know why.

Dejen Tesfagiorgis,
saxophonist

Dejen Tesfagiorgis by John Whiting

It’s a Wednesday night, and like most every Wednesday night,
I’m stepping on the 16 bus to meet my girlfriend at the Artists’ Quarter. She’s
my most loyal fan for the weekly jam I’ve held there for about a year
now.

I get my bus transfer at 6:25 on the dot. Perfect timing to
get to the AQ by 7, see who’s shown up to play, warm up hastily with a whole-tone
lick while reading the inkjet-printed cartoon about performance-enhancing drugs
in the green room. I’ve been playing with each of the musicians in different
capacities since college, and every week we hit this bandstand and dig,
excavating the melodic lessons left to us from the masters. As I shuffle through
my coverless fakebook to find tonight’s shared journey, my Metro Transit
neighbors ask about my musical backpack. My horn ensures there’s never an idle
moment between strangers and the ding-sing of the bus. Another story of how
long I’ve been playing and where I’m headed, another invite given (it’s free),
and hopefully another live jazz fan in the making.

Fifth and Market. Here I am. The anticipation is great. I’m
hoping we draw enough of a crowd to justify Dave opening up early, and to sell
some drinks. Stepping off the bus, I breathe in the cool air, forgetting my
‘job’ of picking the songs to take in the ice skaters along Landmark plaza. There’s
no [Minnesota] Wild [hockey] game tonight, so we should all arrive on time.

To no surprise, my friends are here. My MUSICIANS are here.
Jesse’s looking over changes in his iRealBook, with his eager head and
cheetah-striped Zubaz pants. Adam’s walking in with an upright [bass] the same
size as him, talking about a sick band he recorded last week at SignatureTone
studio. Aaron’s setting up his kit and charmingly talking about the graduate
philosophy program he’s no longer with, and a new player is here, an older guy
named Steve Kenny. I haven’t heard of him before, but the usual quartet of
20-somethings can sense his comfortableness in this room. With these stories.
Amongst these posters. He asks if he can play and I say sure. This is a jam,
and what’s music without people to make it with you?

The sign outside the door says “Tesfa Quartet + Jam,” but
realize this is our crew. This is our group.

“Blue Monk” to start with – something easy – and tune up. My
solo opens the night, a calm display to let a story build but show Steve I know
how to play (while making eye contact with my girl in the audience). I’m
playing these notes for you, as all the horn players, quintets, bands, legends,
open mic-ers, and dreamers have before, from the first-time stage takers to
headliners making their annual appearance. The Artists’ Quarter is the club
that kept us playing, sharing those journeys of so many before us. This is the
club that pulled me from weekend and Wednesday night work to share my spirit
with friends. This is the club that will always be our club.

Thanks to regulars David Feily (guitar), Geoff LeCrone (guitar), and Will Kjeer (piano); the many people who have graced our stage over the past five years; Davis at the door; our regular audience; the players checking us out before the 9 p.m. show; the dimly lit “No performance enhancing drugs” cartoon in the green room; Dave for making the drinks strong; and Kenny for giving this green college grad a regular gig.

***

Notes

(1) We thought the idea of an outdoor jazz festival in
Minnesota in February, even in a heated tent, was crazy, but we drove to St. Paul anyway.
Maybe something went wrong with the heat in the tent, or maybe it was just too
cold, but we had gone inside the St. Paul Hotel and were seated at a table by
the window in the St. Paul Grill when Joey DeFrancesco’s tour bus pulled up
outside. In the first picture, that’s Jazz Festival executive director Steve
Heckler on the left, Joey’s drummer Byron “Wookie” Landham on the right. We
always meant to use the second picture as our Christmas card.